Beautiful Liar
by a-spoopy-bird
Summary: Lance is clinically depressed and has GAD. Too bad his parents are making him go to a support group... But when he finds it easy t oopen up the the Group Leader and finds a cute boy there, he thinks it might not be that bad.
1. Chapter 1

"Lance, I think it's time you went to a support group."

Lance sat there, words taking a second to register. Support group? No, no, that wasn't necessary. Yeah, he wasn't fine, but a support group? Like, the ones for kids how cut themselves and wanted to commit suicide? That-

That was pretty accurate.

His parents had asked to enter his fortress. He caught himself going to tug on the bottoms of his sleeves and stopped. He didn't want them to see the fresh marks from last night. Then they would overreact, and they'd cry, and he didn't want to cause them any more pain than he already has.

"A- a support group?" He managed to choke out. No, he really didn't want to. As long as he could stay here, in his room, and pretend nothing was wrong, he could be fine, the problems that weren't going away would leave eventually. Right?

"Yes, honey." His mom said. He looked down. Her eyes were full of sadness and concern. "We're worried about you."

His shoulders slumped. "Yeah, I know."

"We think a support group is a great way to get some things off your chest and get some help we can't give." His dad said, an arm around Lance's mom and another on Lance's shoulder.

Lance lips twitched in a weak imitation of a smile. "I'll give it a shot." He didn't want to. The lie felt bad to say. But it was worth it. His parents smiled, giving his shoulder a squeeze, then left his room.

He deflated. Flopping back onto his bed, he grabbed a pillow and pressed it against his face. He released a muffled scream of frustration. He hated the thought of going to a support group. He didn't like the thought of the weird, depressed and way too _open_ atmosphere it was bound to have. It sounded exhausting.

 _Bzz! Bzzz!_ Lance groaned into the pillow still on his face. What now, O Electronic Tormentor?

 **Hunk: hey**

 **Lance: whats up**

 **Hunk: pidge and i are going to see MegaMan**

 **Hunk: you down**

 **Lance: sure see u there**

Lance looked at the conversation. Had he said something wrong? No, it looked like something Not Depressed Lance would say. Sure, maybe a bit more subdued, but he had just woken up, right?

Lance cringed. He was making up an alibi for being depressed instead of telling the truth. That was…

Depressing.

Lance grimaced at his own pun. He was glad no one heard that one. Not all of them could be winners. Or in his case, any of them.

 _Just shut up and get in actual clothes._ He told himself. He looked in his closet and drawers. Jeans? Sure. Long sleeve turtle neck? Go for it. Jacket he was almost never seen without? Amen, hallelujah.

Lance Took one last sweeping look at himself. Not bad. Probably a seven, if he were to rate the look. Not bad.

He grabbed his mess of keys he's collected over the years, then left his room.

"Lance! Hey, can you ref this race?" One of his many siblings said.

"Maybe later, 'kay bud?"

"Hey, Lance."

"Hey, Veronica." He said. She was the only other person, besides his parents, who knew. "I'm going to see a movie with Hunk and Pidge."

"Okay, I'll tell Mom and Dad if they ask."

" _Gracias!_ " Lance called back, heading out the door. As soon as it closed, he let out a deep breath. It was almost suffocating, trying to be with all of those people at once, even if they were his family. He shook his head slightly. Movie Time with Hunk was on and he was the main character. Time to act like it.

Lance took a slight pause on his way to his bike. He just made another pun, this one not half bad. Unlocking the chain with an electric green key, he hopped on and rode into the cool, borderline cold November air.

"Lance!" He turned to the sound. Hunk was waving his arms, signaling for Lance to join them.

"What's up?" He asked, shoving his cold hands in his pockets.

"Are you excited for this? So many jokes to be made." Hunk said excitedly.

"How much you wanna bet Hunk cries?" Pidge said, he glasses glinting dangerously.

Lance narrowed his eyes. "How much you have?" He asked in an awful Boston accent.

"You know, I got about 10 dollahs 'ere." Pidge replied, her accent just as bad, if not worse.

"We went to Boston one time." Hunk said sadly, shaking his head.

"That pawn dealer guy was convincing, Hunk! I almost pawned my watch." Lance said indignantly. The longer he acted the easier it was to believe.

"It's our turn, children." Pidge said.

"You're literally the youngest!"

"And shortest." Lance snorted. Pidge whirled around and batted his arm. The ticket dealer wasn't amused.

"Three for MegaMan, please." Hunk said over Lance and Pidge's 'fight'.

This continued. Lance could feel his energy to put up with life draining. He was glad they were at the movies, not an amusement park. As he settled in with his popcorn and Coke, he only half payed attention to the ads.

"Lance, movie trivia!" Pidge whispered excitedly. It was no secret how much Pidge enjoyed answering the trivia or learning something new.

"Whoever wins gets to choose a punishment for the other?" Lance asked. Customary rules.

"Deal." The shook hands across Hunk.

Lance won. Pidge was furious.

"I'm telling you, don't underrate the Rocky movies." Lance said for the third time.

"Uh, Lance, if I may. You only watched those because I made you."

"Yep. Thanks, pal." Lance said, grinning.

Hunk huffed but gave Lance a sideways hug. The contact was so unexpected, Lance stiffened at first, but quickly relaxed. Hunk's hugs were the best.

Then why didn't it feel as safe and warm as it used to?

The squeeze had long since ended, the opening credits rolled, but Lance was still focused on how he hadn't felt it. He took a deep breath. Don't dwell on it, he told himself. Just focus on the movie.

The movie was hilarious. He laughed when the rest of the theater laughed, stifled laughter at Pidge's horrible puns and sexual jokes. Halfway through the movie, He needed a break.

"I'm using the bathroom, I'll be back."

"Don't get lost." Pidge whispered as he passed.

"Don't eat my popcorn." He replied with a dash of salt.

He crouched, aware of how tall he was, and snuck out of the theater to the cool hallway. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He knew he had to go the the bathroom and not just creep in the hallway. He wanted to vanish and not return. Just, poof, where'd Lance go?

But no.

He grudgingly walked to the bathroom and just stood in there, leaning against the wall. He looked in the mirror, thinking about how pathetic this was. He, Lance Charles McClain, the social butterfly, the flirt, was hiding in the bathroom? Unheard of. Unthinkable. That The Lance McClain would get socially exhausted after less then an hour with his friends. That was just crazy. Wild.

Lance McClain was the kid you went to if you wanted to have a laugh, or if you wanted girl advice. He was the one who was always there in the thick of things, never alone, always with or going to a friend. He was the one how would flirt without mercy, the one who didn't know tact even if it hit him in the face.

Who was this kid looking back at him? This anxious kid who didn't want to leave his room? This kid who just wanted to go to sleep? Who just wanted to escape everything? Who just wanted to find his off switch? Who feared going out in public in case something embarrassing happened? Whose jokes and pickup lines were only half of what they once were? Who just wanted death?

Lance blinked back tears. Get it together, McClain. He reminded himself he was still in a theater. There was still the risk of being discovered. He was glad the theaters were dark. He took a deep breath. He could get through this. Just a movie, maybe dinner afterwards. He was okay. This was fine.

He stepped into the theater, putting up his most fortified act to date.

He wondered how long it would last.

Lance sat quietly. His parents had dropped him off at the youth center. He hadn't wanted to go in. There was no point. He would put on his show, act like he was fine, go home and cry himself to sleep. Rinse and repeat every Tuesday and Thursday. It sounded like torture.

"Everyone, we have a new member joining us today." The teacher, advisor, adult person said. He was thickly built and had a scar on his nose. He turned to Lance. "Would you mind introducing yourself, Lance?"

Lance felt nine pairs of eyes train on him. He wouldn't let himself back down now. "Hey, I'm Lance-"

"Hi, Lance." The group droned. Lance hoped to God it wouldn't be like that every time.

"Hi, and, well, I'm 17, go to Scenic Ridge High, and my parents signed me up for this." He shrugged. "Not really much to talk about."

"Great! Thank you, Lance."

"Thank you, Lance." The rest of the group toned, except for one kid. Short, very emo. He'd probably been here for a while, judging by how he rolled his eyes at the monotonous replies. He had a mullet- really?- and a cropped jacket.

Lance also dully noted this was set up like a physically therapy/rehab group. Lance sat back and listened to everyone share something on their mind, not really paying attention until Mullet Head was up.

"I'm Keith." He said, clearly disliking this.

"Hi, Keith." Everyone said.

"I don't have anything to say."

The Group Leader, who Lance had found out his name was Shiro, slightly raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Thank you, Keith."

Everyone repeated it. Lance looked between the two of them. There was obviously _something_ there, but he couldn't pin down what. Keith sulkily looked at Shiro, then the ground as everyone went. When the group got to Shiro, he smiled.

"Does anyone have any new goals or goal progress they've made and would like to share?" He asked. His voice sounded fake, it was too cheerful for their discussion.

"Yeah. I met my four-week goal." A girl said from the front row. Everyone clapped, some excitedly, others politely.

"That's great, Juliette. Anyone else?"

"Yeah. I'm halfway to my one-month goal." Some dude with long hair said.

Lance didn't want to point out they were the same thing. He felt that would be rude and he didn't want to draw attention to himself. He kept himself in the forcibly casual position he adopted.

"Good for you, Lotor, that's amazing." Shiro said, smiling. Lance looked at Lotor. He had an energy of trouble around him, like Keith, but it was slier. Lotor's hair was white, with some purple shoots. Lance took note of his purposely ratty jeans with a purposely ratty top. Lance looked away. He didn't want to be caught staring.

It went on like this for a while. Goals, testimonies, news, then ending in a prayer.

"Okay, you know the drill, guys. Go around the circle and pray for whatever's bothering you, or just say skip." Shiro explained. He seemed to be less cheerful now, which made Lance more comfortable. He didn't like the fakeness in it, like he was trying really hard to be like other Group Leaders.

As soon as they had said _amen,_ Lance got up started to go to the front of the youth center.

"Hey, Lance, could you stay for a moment?" Shiro asked.

Lance bit his lip and closed his eyes for a split second, then turned around, putting up a smile. "Sure. My parents will be here at like, eight, though." He said easily. It was about quarter 'till.

They sat down in two of the folding chairs that were used for the circle. "What's up?"

Shiro rested his elbows on his knees. "How are things? At home?"

"Pretty good. My one sister just one a lacrosse game last week, she's really competitive with this sort of thing." Lance considered his household. "My mom finally got a break from dealing with the kids and went to lunch with one of her friends when my dad got the day off. My youngest brother, Harvey, he won the dance recital at his dance school. He wore the medal for three days." Lance laughed.

Shiro laughed as well. "So you have a pretty competitive family?"

"Yeah, everyone has one thing or another they want to try, or they excel at. Like Veronica, my oldest sister, she's amazing at analyzing stuff. Her team wins every game." Lance held back a laugh. "Even when it's something as simple as a snowball fight."

"That's sounds like a busy house." Shiro remarked.

"It's actually not, surprisingly. Most practices and games are the same nights, or opposite nights, so we just go around town dropping kids off at different practices. Veronica made the most gas and time efficient route so that everyone can do their own thing. My parents really support it."

"How are you?"

The question caught him off guard. It wasn't the generic _how are you_ people use to start conversations you have when meeting in Walmart. It was as if it was an invitation to spill the beans. Lance felt like Shiro would press until he got an answer.

Lance shrugged halfheartedly. "I've been better."

"Care to elaborate?" Shiro asked lightly.

Lance bit his lip, looking down. No, he did _not._ But Shiro didn't seem like the type of guy who took no for an answer. Also, he was swol as hell, not just a slight intimidation factor.

Well, he did seem like a nice guy. He hadn't given Lance any reason not to trust him. But he hadn't given him a solid reason to trust him besides a gut instinct.

"Would you be more comfortable if I told you about myself?" He asked, seemingly sensing Lance's discomfort.

Lance nodded.

He told about how he had come across this group. He had been kidnapped when he claimed to be his friend Matt to keep him safe, so he had gone to a therapy group of his own. It helped him so much he decided to help out other kids.

"That's crazy, like, in a good way." Lance said. How could anyone go through stuff like that then turn around and say he wanted to help depressed teens be happy again?

"Thanks, Lance." Shiro said, smiling.

Lance realized with a sinking feeling it was his turn to open up. "Oh, uh," He swallowed. Why was his mouth this dry? He loved talking about himself!

Used to, a small part of his brain reminded him. He told it to shut up.

"My parents found out I was depressed or whatever the hard way. Before school I wasn't ready to get on the bus, so they checked my room and found me asleep, naturally. Alarm wasn't set, backup alarms weren't set. Needless to say, they were more than a little upset." He shrugged. "It was during the heat wave we had in March, so they saw my arms is full glory." He said, a hint of humor in his voice. "They were still angry, but didn't send me to school, thank God. But they purged my room, getting rid of anything and everything that I could or have used. They thought that was the extent of it, and I didn't bother to correct them until Veronica caught me in the middle of a panic attack." Lance bit his lip. He had told the few therapists he had up to this point. He might as well try with this one. "It wasn't a bad one, not like they happen now, and they didn't happen as often back then. But anyway, she caught me in one and talked me out of it. Then she knew. Things spiraled down for a while, and my parents were getting desperate. They started to hire therapists and counselors. They didn't work. I kept spiraling down. I was losing my grip on time and sleep and what it was like to genuinely be happy. It was- it was pretty bad." He summed up lamely.

Shiro nodded. A clear sign to go on. Lance didn't see any pity or sympathy in his eyes.

He cleared his throat. "So they stopped therapy. They just- they didn't know what to do. I didn't either. I had gone so far down so fast, it seemed like I was a cinder block in the sea. Pretty soon I plateaued. Everyone, including myself, thought that meant I had hit rock bottom. Panic attacks once a month, clinical depression, generalized anxiety disorder, pill bottles up the wazoo that did nothing besides put my in an indifferent haze. When they wore off, my anxiety sky rocketed. Told my parents, how told my doctor, who said to stop taking them. Surprise surprise, it got worse." He felt awful for unloading all of this onto Shiro, but now that he was going, he couldn't stop.

"So just when everyone was like 'cool now we can work and bringing up your mood since we don't have to worry about you sliding further,' I slid further.

"My grades dropped because I was hardly awake during class, I couldn't sleep at night, there was the constant loom of that indescribable _something_ threatening me, and I had found a hidden razor." He paused. His parents didn't know of the razor. "This was in early June, so school let out. I didn't have to leave my room, and I just- I don't know." He sighed, looking at his hands that were knotted in his lap. "I gave up." He said quietly. He hated it. It was true though. As soon as school let out eh just gave up. He didn't care. For three months. He didn't care about anything. "The rest of my family was catching on. Marco came into my room sometimes just to make sure I was alive. I slowly stopped going to their games. I was too tired to do anything. For months. I hardly remember the summer.

"I do remember Hunk and Pidge, my friends, they noticed. I thought they'd be disappointed and mad and never want to see me ever again. So I slowly stopped talking. Their texts became less and less important to me. But I couldn't understand why they didn't stop talking. I was just saving them the pain. I was suicidal. I thought that by cutting them out I was saving everyone the trouble. They still don't know." Lance knew he needed to stop. It was too much right now. As he was telling it he was reliving it and if he wasn't careful he was going to throw himself right back to square one.

"I slowly got better. School started in September. I got my act together enough to survive school. But not enough. I'm still down and washed out, just not as bad as the summer. I had to clean up a bit to take care of senior year. I'm just thankful Pidge set up our courses so that this year we all have easy classes."

Shiro nodded. "You've been through a lot, and no one expects you to get better overnight. There is no cure all. You should try telling people about your emotions. As cheesy as it sounds, it helps, and I can guarantee they won't think it's annoying or a waste of time."

Lance looked up. How had he known that's what he was thinking? Shiro smiled. "That's what groups like this are for. To share what you've been through with people going through the same thing, or have already been through the same thing."

Lance smiled. "Thanks, Shiro. I should go, my parents are probably here with some screaming kids."

Shiro laughed. "Alright. See you on Thursday, Lance."

"See you." Lance left the room and kept himself from running to the doors. Sure enough, the van was there, but, surprisingly, only Marco and Veronica were with his parents.

"How was it?" His dad asked.

Lance considered it for a second, putting on his seatbelt. "It… wasn't as bad as I thought it would be." He admitted.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, he thought, picturing the mullet haired kid.


	2. Chapter 2

Uh yeah this is my formal apology. Im discontinuing this story, and that's a right dick move, but i just cant continue it? like i have so man things going on.

but im trying to update my other stuff! I just released a one shot. im doing an independent long ass fic. im going to be writing a lot of plance (proply angst or its going into a drabbles im doing) idk im sorry though, Beautiful Liar is dead.


	3. Update

I lied. Im just putting this on hiatus. its not quite dead, since i have chap 2 started, but i cant continue. i have Great Minds Think Alike still, and i have the long fic thats based off of a Defender og the Universe episode, and i have my one shots.

plus, ive planned a lot of new stuff, like, i just cant find the time to finish it all. im so sorry guys, its just- its harder to write now with my grades dropping. its whatever. but i promise ill get something out either this month or next, hopefully.

again, im so so so so so sorry. yall dont deserve this long as wait between chapters. hell, chap 1 of GMTA isnt even out!

but anyways yeah.

Author Of Demise,

Katie.


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